


All Hallows

by withpractice_ff



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Costume Kink, Crossdressing, F/F, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withpractice_ff/pseuds/withpractice_ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles Edgeworth attends a costume party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hallows

**Author's Note:**

> SPECIAL AWESOME BONUS: Artist [Exekyl](http://exekyl.deviantart.com/) drew some fantastic fanart of [Phoenix in his Halloween costume!](http://exekyl.deviantart.com/art/Phoenix-Leia-294538860)

When he receives the invitation, he considers it for a moment and then places it back in his inbox. Tomorrow he will make the time to RSVP with his regrets. He assumes that's the end of it.

But as he's driving down the interstate that night, on his way home after a long day at the office, he finds himself starting to reconsider. He tried to have the man convicted, after all, yet he found it in his heart to forgive him, to go so far as to invite him to his holiday costume party. Like the Steel Samurai himself, Will Powers is strong of character and generous of heart.

And there is, of course, always a chance that he'll wear his old costume to the party.

Edgeworth smiles, excitement building in his chest.

First thing the next morning, he writes Mr. Powers to let him know that yes, he will be attending the festivities.

  


* * *

  


He begins to have second thoughts as he prepares his costume. The very notion that he will spend an evening playing pretend with other adults is absurd. He's a world famous prosecutor, for Christ's sake, not a child with time to play make-believe.

He feels guilty, then, thinking immediately of Mr. Powers. And so, on his way to work the next morning, he stops by the costume shop and purchases a single item.

A pair of fangs.

Simple and elegant, they fit neatly over his canines, blending seamlessly into the landscape of his mouth.

  


* * *

  


The hall is crowded when he arrives, fashionably late. He scans the assembled revelers for Mr. Powers, but he finds no sign of his host. He does, however, see several other faces he recognizes. Unfortunate but, he supposes, not terribly surprising. He insinuates himself into the masses, hoping to disappear into the crowd.

He is pouring himself a glass of punch--spiked, he realizes as he takes a sip, lips curling at the poorly masked flavor of cheap scotch--when he spots Franziska. She's donned a flowing white dress for the occasion, paired with elaborate feathered wings and a thin silver halo. His lips quirk, amused. Still, he finds her presence somewhat baffling; this is no more her scene than it is his, and she holds no allegiance to the warrior of Neo Olde Tokyo.

She looks radiant, wrapped in so much white, and--her lips spreading into a predatory grin when she sees him--downright evil.

"Kleiner Bruder," she says, and for her to be speaking German in public, he thinks she must be a bit drunk. Already. "This is most unexpected."

"I would have to say the same."

She harumphs, crossing her arms across her chest as she takes a sip of her drink--champagne, from the looks of it. "It is Adrian Andrews' doing."

He follows her gaze across the room to the buffet, where the Andrews in question is well-stocking her plate with cocktail shrimp. She teeters in her too-tall high-heels, a dainty pair of devil's horns poking through her long, blonde hair. The red bodysuit she's wearing is form-fitting without looking painted on, and a thin, pointed tail hangs elegantly from her waist.

She looks good. He suspects this isn't lost on Franziska.

"--feels a foolish sense of guilt," Franziska is saying. "As though she is somehow responsible for his foolish school-yard crush. I told her he probably wouldn't even notice her at a gathering this size, but she wouldn't hear it."

"Nice costume," he comments casually, but she knows him too well to miss the thinly veiled amusement in his voice.

"What about you, Miles Edgeworth? Where is your fool costume?"

Wearing a tailored black suit, crisp white dress shirt, and thin red tie, it's easy to understand why she would ask such a question. But then he curls his lips in a snarl, revealing the gleaming white fangs.

"A vampire," she deadpans. "How original."

"An angel," he says, mimicking her tone. "How original."

She is about to snap a retort when Adrian materializes from out of the crowd, her plate towering with shrimp. Franziska's attention is immediately diverted, her eyes traveling the soft curve of Adrian's hip.

"Oh, Mr. Edgeworth!" Adrian says, her voice revealing nothing more than surprise.

"You remember my little brother," Franziska says, not quite a question. "He was just leaving."

Edgeworth smiles politely, resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Ms. Andrews," he acknowledges. "Always a pleasure to see you."

Adrian nods, her smile hesitant but not insincere.

"If we don't cross paths again, have a lovely evening, ladies."

"Good night, Miles Edgeworth," Franziska says with an air of finality, then turns her back to him as she grabs a shrimp from Adrian's plate.

Edgeworth downs the rest of his punch, then ventures back into the crowd.

  


* * *

  


"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe cries, his arms already around Edgeworth's shoulders. "What a surprise!"

Edgeworth grimaces in the detective's embrace, thinking that one glass of spiked punch is insufficient for this particular situation.

"Detective," he says stiffly.

Gumshoe releases his vise-hold and regards his superior with a wide, lop-sided grin. Edgeworth is comfortable in inferring that Franziska is not the only one who has been indulging freely this evening.

"Hey," Gumshoe says, a sudden look of confusion on his face. "Where's your costume?"

"I'm a vampire," he says with infinite patience. He bares his teeth to illustrate.

"Oh ho ho!" the detective replies, genuinely pleased. "Very classy, sir!"

Edgeworth makes a vague sound of agreement, and Gumshoe begins preening next to him, puffing out his chest and fidgeting with his costume.

"And what are you, Detective?" Edgeworth asks, because he doesn't see any way around it.

"A Ghostbuster!" he exclaims, clearly pleased with himself. He looks to Edgeworth for recognition, but the man's face is a blank, so he continues, "You know, 'Dunna dunna dunna I ain't afraid of no ghost!'"

"I assure you that I have no idea what you're referring to," Edgeworth says dryly.

"Oh." For a moment he visibly deflates, but then he perks again and whispers conspiratorially, "I think Miss von Karma and Miss Andrews are here together tonight. I think they're, you know. _Together_."

"It is inappropriate to gossip," Edgeworth chides, "particularly about a superior."

For a moment he looks petulant, and Edgeworth thinks he may try to argue, but then he says, repentant, "Sorry, sir."

"Just don't let it happen again."

An awkward silence befalls them, Gumshoe shifting nervously on his feet. After a moment, Edgeworth asks, "Have you seen our host, Mr. Powers?"

Gumshoe looks around with an almost comical enthusiasm, happy for this opportunity to please the other man. "I saw him over by the ice sculpture a little while ago. Doesn't look like he's there now, though. Sorry, sir."

"Quite alright, Detective. I appreciate your assistance."

Gumshoe grins, and Edgeworth is reminded, briefly, of Pess.

"I gotta say," Gumshoe begins, and Edgeworth starts eying about for another drink station, "I didn't expect to see you tonight, sir." Edgeworth shrugs, offering no further response, and Gumshoe trips over his words, stuttering, " I mean-- I mean, I _don't_ mean that you're not-- That is to say--"

"Detective," Edgeworth cuts him off. "I took no offense. Relax."

"Right! I am completely relaxed, sir!"

"I'm going to refresh my glass, and then I will continue my search for Mr. Powers. It was a pleasure seeing you, Detective," he says, because he has to.

If Gumshoe is disappointed by this abrupt departure, Edgeworth doesn't notice, already on his way to the punch bowl.

  


* * *

  


He visits the ice sculpture next--Powers' last known location.

Powers, of course, is no where to be seen. In a minute he will steel himself and ask those around him if they've seen the host, but for now, he takes a moment for himself, sipping at his drink and observing the guests around him. There are more than a few faces that he recognizes, but he can't place from where. Actors, probably, stars and extras on children's programming.

He's leaning against the wall, questioning the wisdom in continuing to drink the bright red swill they're calling punch, when he spots something--or rather, _someone_ \--of interest across the room.

Next to someone in an impressively fuzzy bunny suit, there is a man wearing a form-fitting white dress, guns holstered at the hip and hair pulled into two matching buns. His back to Edgeworth, he can't see the man's face, but the broad shoulders give him away despite the obvious care that's gone into his costume. It's not the usual, jokey sort of cross-dressing he's become used to seeing around Halloween, but an actual costume, simple and classy.

He makes note to investigate further a bit later.

No one in his immediate area seems to know where Powers has made off to, so he polishes off his drink and continues his search.

  


* * *

  


"Edgey! No way!"

He takes a deep breath, knowing the owner of that sadly familiar voice before seeing the man's face. Reluctantly, he turns.

"Larry."

"Edgey! Man!" Larry says, bouncing on his toes. "What are you doing here?"

"Doctor's appointment," Edgeworth deadpans.

Larry--if he's even listening--pays him no mind. He says, "Hey, dude, where's your costume?"

Edgeworth sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and is again reminded of why he generally avoids affairs such as this. "I'm wearing it, Larry."

Larry brings a hand to his chin, cocking his head to the side as he considers. Slowly, a smile spreads his lips. "I get it, I get it. You're a traveling salesman! Very clever, Edgey!"

"Yes," he mutters, feeling a headache forming at the back of his skull, "I'm here to sell you a vacuum."

Larry frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sorry, man, but I've got nothing but hardwood at the new place."

"Larry," Edgeworth says as calmly as he can, "I am dressed as a vampire, not a salesman. And even were I dressed as a salesman, it would still be just a costume, and I would not actually be selling vacuum cleaners. Do you understand?"

"Sure man, whatever. No hard feelings, right?"

"Yes," he says, pained. "No hard feelings."

"So, hey, Edgey," Larry says, all energy and excitement. "How do you like _my_ costume?"

In an exaggerated muscle suit, clearly spray-painted the same dull shade of grey as the paint on his face, it's not entirely clear what he's supposed to be until he bends, resting his hand on his chin.

"The Thinker," Edgeworth deduces, not sure whether to be amused or depressed. "How fitting."

Larry blathers on for another few minutes, boasting about his costume and the hard work that went into wielding a spray can, and Edgeworth considers ways to get out of the conversation. Fortunately, life handles it for him, as Larry gets distracted mid-sentence by the ample curves of the passing maître d’. He bids Edgeworth an abrupt goodbye, following the woman into the crowd.

He forgot to ask Larry if he'd seen Mr. Powers. Pity.

  


* * *

  


"Mr. Edgeworth! What are you doing here?"

The voice is familiar, but it takes him a second to recognize Maya Fey beneath the whiskers and buck teeth, the rabbit ears and cottontail.

Maya Fey. In a fuzzy bunny suit.

His first thought is that it's a coincidence--a perfectly reasonable assumption. But when his gaze passes the young medium, it lands on Phoenix Wright, wearing the same white dress he'd spotted earlier, twin buns on either side of his head. When he notices Edgeworth, he waves sheepishly, a blush heating his cheeks.

He waves back, the gesture automatic, and gives his greetings to Ms. Fey, all the while resisting the urge to let his eyes travel the slit in the skirt of Phoenix's dress, revealing the toned muscles and smooth skin--did he shave?--of his right leg.

Maya is saying something further to him, and he nods, not really listening, distracted by the way the gun holster hangs at Phoenix's hip. Broad shouldered and angular, there is nothing feminine about Phoenix's body, but the outfit serves to accentuate what curves he does have, giving him a softness that Edgeworth is unused to associating with the man. He skipped the usual, over-sized fake breasts that most men opt for when cross-dressing, and instead the dress fits snugly across his natural chest, hinting at the muscles hidden beneath.

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Maya asks, and Edgeworth realizes she must have been asking him a question. His eyes move back to her face, and he gives her a tentative smile, and she repeats, "Where's your costume?"

"He's a vampire," Phoenix interjects, sparing Edgeworth from having to explain his costume yet again. At the questioning look Edgeworth sends his way, Phoenix amends, "I saw your fangs when you smiled."

"And what about you?" Edgeworth asks, smiling slyly. If Phoenix thinks he might hear a hint of flirtation in the prosecutor's voice, he wouldn't be mistaken. "While your costume is most impressive, I have to admit that I'm not quite sure who you are."

Phoenix's face goes red, a hand going to the back of his neck in a gesture that Edgeworth is well familiar with. He mutters, "I may have lost a bet."

"He's Princes Leia!" Maya chirps. "You know, from _Star Wars_."

"It does sound vaguely familiar."

"Vaguely familiar?" Phoenix repeats, his earlier embarrassment lost in his incredulity. "It's just the greatest film ever made."

"What was the bet?" Edgeworth asks, ignoring the other man's fervor. Phoenix immediately blanches, and Maya giggles brightly.

Phoenix is spared the apparent embarrassment of such revelations, however, as it is at that moment that Will Powers joins them, grinning from ear to ear. Edgeworth is unperturbed by the interruption; not knowing the nature of the bet doesn't stop him from appreciating the results, after all.

Mr. Powers is wearing a thick brown mane and a furry, full-body cat suit, complete with large, fuzzy paws.

He's dressed as a lion. Not the Steel Samurai.

Of course he wouldn't have come as the Steel Samurai, Edgeworth thinks, frowning. Wearing the costume would have felt like going to work, and no one wants to work on the weekend--or so he's been told. It was foolish of him to suspect Mr. Powers might actually wear the costume tonight.

Still, he'd be lying if he said he weren't disappointed.

But that's not Mr. Powers' fault, of course, so he smiles, reaches out to shake his host's hand, lets Powers pull him into an awkward embrace.

The four chat for a bit, spend some time catching up; it's been a while since any of them have seen Mr. Powers, busy as he is with the new show. The usual pleasantries out of the way, Powers, Maya, and Edgeworth then spend a good ten minutes discussing the merits of the Iron Infant, and Phoenix occupies himself with his drink as his friends descend into madness.

"Actually, Penny's working on set--you guys remember Penny?" Powers asks, and Maya nods, enthused. "She'd really be the one to ask. I think I saw her over by the ice sculpture..."

"Well let's go!" Maya says, raising a fist in the air. Then, remembering Phoenix, she looks to her friend and asks, "Uh, you don't mind, right Nick?"

Phoenix laughs, shaking his head. "Have at, kid."

She ruffles at being called a kid, but she says, "I don't want to bore your brains out."

"Don't worry, Ms. Fey," Edgeworth says smoothly. "I will keep Wright occupied while you and Mr. Powers search out the truth."

"You're not coming?" she asks, surprised, and even Phoenix raises a brow. "But you were the one who supposed that the Iron Infant's father is really the Evil Magistrate!"

"And I fully expect a debriefing later this evening."

"Right!" Maya says, giving him a little salute. "Mr. Powers and I will get to the bottom of it!"

And with that, Maya grabs Powers by the arm and drags him through the crowd. The two men watch after them, feeling Powers' pain. When they're out of sight, Edgeworth says, "So tell me, why Princess Leia?"

Phoenix blushes, the color creeping up his neck. "Well, she was always my favorite character. In _Star Wars_ I mean. Also, you know, better than a sexy nurse, right?"

"I often find it more appealing to leave a bit to the imagination, anyway," Edgeworth replies, thoughtful, and Phoenix's eyes widen ever so slightly, his blush deepening.

"Yeah, well, Maya said I still had to wear heels, though." He pulls back the skirt of his dress at the slit, revealing a pair of heeled white boots that stop just under his knee. They hug his calves, highlighting his lean muscles. Edgeworth wonders if he has any idea what he's doing. "You should have seen me trying to walk in these things when I first put them on. I don't know how women do it."

"I can't imagine," Edgeworth says, distracted. "Were they difficult to get on?"

"Actually, they weren't that bad. There's a zipper on the inside, see?" And with that he turns his leg, giving Edgeworth a view of the zipper. The movement pushes the slit further open, revealing his taut inner thigh as well.

Edgeworth realizes, then, that he wants him. Not in some abstract, intellectual way, but with a sudden, overwhelming longing, with an almost irrepressible urge to _touch_. He swallows, looking away, and his throat is dry.

"Well," he says, less confident than before but unwilling to stop himself, "I'd have to say it was worth it. You look stunning."

There's that look in Phoenix's eyes again, that not-quite-surprise, and he asks, embarrassed before the words even leave his mouth, "Are you flirting with me?"

"I am. I can stop, if you'd like."

Phoenix considers, pressing a finger to his chin. "Because I'm dressed like a woman?"

"Yes, but that's not the sole reason."

Phoenix laughs, something knowing and relieved. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Alright, I don't want you to stop, then."

He grins then, shy and earnest, and Edgeworth feels a flutter of excitement in his chest. Perhaps tonight won't be a wash, after all.

  


* * *

  


It's not as if he'd planned on ending up in the bathroom with his lips on Phoenix's neck, but flirtations had continued, and Maya's absence grew longer and longer, and two drinks turned into five, and now here they are, Phoenix's back pressed against the tile and Edgeworth's knee between his thighs.

"Do you have--" Phoenix breathes, cut off by a moan when Edgeworth skirts his teeth over the sensitive spot just below his ear. "Mm, do you have any, uh, supplies?"

"I have a condom, if that's what you're asking," Edgeworth replies, his breath hot and close on Phoenix's skin. "Why do you ask?"

He punctuates the question by dropping a hand between Phoenix's legs, groping him through the thin material of the dress. Phoenix bucks against him, muttering about how there's no need to be difficult. Edgeworth's other hand slips inside the slit in his skirt, fingers skipping up his thigh.

"You _did_ shave," Edgeworth says, awed, into the crook of Phoenix's neck. His fingers caress the smooth skin, inching their way upward.

Phoenix laughs nervously, shivering under the other man's touch. "I figured if I was going to do it, I might as well go all out."

"Best idea you've ever had."

Phoenix laughs for real at that, then tilts his head to capture Edgeworth's lips, grabbing at the lapels of his suit and pulling their bodies closer together. Edgeworth's lips part beneath his own, and it's strange, feeling the sharp points of the prop fangs under his tongue, but it's also not entirely unpleasant.

Edgeworth moans, pleased, when his fingers reach the edge of Phoenix's underwear. The briefs are silk, cut for a man but feminine enough in texture to hit all of Edgeworth's buttons. He tugs at the fabric, and Phoenix lifts his hips from the wall, granting Edgeworth enough room to slide the article down his legs. He kicks them off, leaving them carelessly on the ground at his feet.

He breaks the kiss, looking Phoenix in the eyes. His fingers work their way around the back of Phoenix's thigh, up to press pleasantly into the flesh of his ass. He asks, "What is it you want, Wright?"

Phoenix cheeks go immediately red, and he manages, pressing against Edgeworth's hand, "You're not actually going to make me ask, are you?"

"Have you done this before?"

Though he wouldn't have thought it possible, Phoenix's blush deepens. "Yes, I've done this before. I know what I'm asking."

Edgeworth smirks, then, working his hand over Phoenix's length while pressing a finger just inside his opening. Phoenix gasps, head tipping back against the wall, exposing the smooth skin of his neck. And then, abruptly, Edgeworth's hands are gone.

"Hey, where'd you--?" he stops, seeing that Edgeworth's gone over to the hand lotion dispenser. He watches, fascinated, as Edgeworth eases himself out of his pants, rolls on the condom, and slicks the lotion over his erection.

"Jesus," Phoenix breathes. "Get back over here."

Edgeworth smiles, smug, and walks--no, _saunters_ \--back over to Phoenix, crushing their lips together as he pushes back the skirt of Phoenix's dress, rucking the material up around his hips to give himself better access. Phoenix hooks a leg around Edgeworth's waist, jutting his hips forward, and with the added height of Phoenix's shiny white heels, Edgeworth has the perfect angle to press into him, slowly, letting Phoenix's body adjust as he pushes in deeper.

There is a moment, then, when they are both perfectly still, listening to the harsh sound of the other breathing, anticipation making them weak in the knees. And then Edgeworth _moves_ , sliding out of Phoenix slowly just to slam back into him, hard, his previous care and control abandoned, and Phoenix would be embarrassed by the sounds escaping his lips if he could think of anything other than the searing, tingling pleasure coursing through his veins.

And when Edgeworth reaches down, pushes back the skirt completely to take Phoenix in his hand, he can't think of anything at all, reduced to a bundle of nerves and a pounding heart.

Edgeworth's knees buckle when he comes, but he manages to stay on his feet, and the sound he makes--the first he's made since they started this, a low, throaty gasp--is enough to set Phoenix off, thrusting desperately into the other man's hand, spilling onto his fingers, the floor.

And when they're both spent, Edgeworth pulls away, pressing the mass of fabric he'd been holding into Phoenix's hand. Phoenix is careful to keep the skirt pulled back and out of the mess.

When he's straightened himself up and pulled his underwear back on, he joins Edgeworth at the sink. Looking at himself in the mirror, he fidgets with his wig, trying his best to look as though he wasn't just fucked in a public restroom.

Edgeworth leans against the sink, looking smug and sated with his arms folded over his chest, and watches Phoenix wash his hands.

"So," he starts, "will you tell me now what the bet was?"

Phoenix grins, looking over at the other man with sly eyes. "No way in hell, sir."


End file.
